


Unprofessional relationships

by Holycowbrowniekitty



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe - Idols, I'm sorry Icchan - Freeform, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:32:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17876870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Holycowbrowniekitty/pseuds/Holycowbrowniekitty
Summary: A bunch of drabbles featuring three up and coming idols and their subtle, not so subtle relationships backstage.





	1. Chapter 1

“Nice! You’re amazing Sae-san!”, Aoi said as the idol spread himself on the white sheets, shirt unbuttoned, showing a glimpse of his smooth collarbones. With each flash, he moved slightly, changing his expressions on demand like a picture book.

“These shots are fantastic~ It’s gonna be hard to select only a few for the album,” the photographer added as he changed the lens.

“Thank you,” Saeki smiled as he turned on his back, stretching his arms behind him on the pillow. He squinted, the lamps temporarily blinding him before his partner blocked the rays. He climbed on the bed and straddled his lower body, apologizing before whipping out the camera for intimate close-ups.

The model didn’t use much effort. He knew his face was photogenic and made people around him flustered. Easily charming the public, his agency dubbed him “Golden boy”, most likely because of his “Natural blond” hair. In all honesty, he found himself fairer with brown, but what sells, sells..

“Ah, Sae-san, unbutton a bit more so we can see your breastbone,” Aoi said. Saeki’s agency contracted him throughout the year, praising his abilities, if not for the positivity he always seemed to radiate and his friendly demeanor which put the female idols at ease. He was present at shoots, interviews and even practice for backstage footage. They once collectively called him the agency’s pet (not derogatory).

And who’d have guessed that he won his heart. Saeki didn’t realize when it had happened, neither was he aware of any milestones in their relationship that lead to his growing feelings. As he deftly pulled open his shirt, showcasing a good part of his chest, he glanced at Aoi, making sure he could enjoy the view. He parted his mouth, and tilted his head, his gaze trying to penetrate through the metal box that was covering his crush’s face to no avail. Did he expect him to fall for his charms, in a professional setting? No, it was not likely, but his imagination wandered, picturing Aoi moving closer and asking Saeki if he could undress him, and it wouldn’t stay confined to the shirt, but he’d plead, grabbing his belt and…

A flash brought Saeki back to his senses, and he repressed the thoughts to the back of his mind.

“Looking good Sae-san!” Aoi yelled out, in his usual, chipper voice.

He was so close, yet so far.

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Amane cried out, his blood-drenched forehead hitting the pavement repeatedly. His assailant unrelenting, he tried kicking his shins. A woman’s voice called out “David!” and the last thing he heard were the shards of a smashed bottle dropping next to him.

“Cut!”

Amane groggily opened his eyes, peeling himself off the ground, careful to not touch his face or anything that could displace his make-up. He got wounded during this skirmish, but it was nothing he’d thought worth of notifying the staff for. Instead, he approached his stunt coordinator, ready to receive an earful about all the things he had done wrong.

“So Dave,” the man huffed, seemingly disgruntled.

“David”, Amane corrected him.

“David, whatever,” he shrugged. “I got some good news for you,” he said as he slammed his water bottle on the props. “That scene was passable.”

Amane widened his eyes in surprise, but softened up with a smile. “I know, Bane-san.”

“Don’t get too cocky now,” he huffed, “your posture is still stiff, and it looks like a robot taught you to move.”

He gripped the wooden pole, familiar with its weight and length. Bane had taught him how to make flashy and fluid moves, befitting of a trained assassin. It relieved him that the rigorous training sessions were worth it.

“Amane-san?”

Amane’s attention darted to the woman running up to him. Kana, his costar, looked concerned. “Are you bleeding?” she asked, pointing to her own wrist. Before Amane could look, warm hands engulfed his and cursed the heavens.

“I’m withdrawing my praise, David,” Bane sighed as he waved for the medical staff to come over, and cover up the small cut on the side on his wrist. “I’m training you to pretend fight, not to, like actually get beaten up.”

“It didn’t hurt,” Amane claimed as he pulled his and back, meeting the scowling eyes of his coach.

Bane firmly grabbed his wrist and stuck a child’s plaster on, complete with baby animals. “You winced, so it hurt,” he said.

“The fabric should be on the wound, Bane-san,” he whimpered as he tried to pull the sticky side of his swelling flesh.

“It’s not about that, it’s about that you shouldn’t hide things that could endanger you. What if you got an infection? What would we do? Delay the filming?” Bane puffed. “Think about others’ feelings for fuck's sake.”

“Your feelings?”

Davide smiled. Bane pulled him closer and whispered something in his ears, patted him on the shoulder and sent him off to resume his dilly dallying. He would get an earful later, when they’re snuggled up in the couch with the pups, watching one of Davide’s blockbusters. Bane much preferred the real thing. 


	3. Chapter 3

“Can I try that again? Okay, thanks, um, well.”

Shudo was delving deep into his brain, searching for the least offensive explanation, but each second that passed made the situation all the worse. The man in front stared at him with cold eyes, pressuring him into submission.

“I thought you’d be way cooler! Like, tall, rough, manly, hardcore,” Shudo continued. With every word that rolled of his tongue, the sweat on his brow increased.

Ryou couldn’t believe the tomfoolery the man in front of him was spewing. His covers had attracted the attention of a music label, who wanted to pair him with one of their best bassists, who apparently sung praises from the heavens on his voice, but here he was insulting his existence. And it’s not like he could change his physique.

“So your conclusion is that I don’t have the manly image you need to sell?”

“You’d be a perfect idol, but,” his eyes darted over the room, “your image is very important, and I don’t know if the guys will accept you. Just go home and apply somewhere else. Focus on your studies,” he said, flashing a sympathetic smile.

“How old do you think I am?”

Shudo guessed, “Fresh out of highschool.”

And he didn’t look over 20. He knew that much.

Ryou crunched up his face, not knowing whether he should take it as a compliment. For a fact, he got carded all too often when he went to the store, and he took pride in his youthful skin, but did he look so immature?

“I’m 25.”

He gasped out, “W-wait, you’re the same age as me!? You’re legal!?” Shudo felt his face heat out of embarrassment. “I mean, maybe it’s just your fashion that makes you kind of, uh.”

Ryou wondered why the man was condescendingly bowing and staring at his face. He didn’t enjoy being observed like a zoo animal, but wouldn’t fear lashing out like one. He stuck out his tongue. The metallic ring took Shudo off guard. As he swept his hair back, tattoos and piercings peeked out from beneath his cap.

“I don’t think you have any right to talk about being hardcore,” Ryou sneered.

Shudo felt a slight twinge in his heart as the smaller one glared at him. He was really cute and good-looking.

“Guess you’re a keeper then.”


End file.
